Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1887-01-10
THE FLAMINGOES.

1t was about o'clock in the after
noon, and Loannee was riding at the
head of our column.
"Hellol snowr ne exclaimed, as we
left the Valley of the Condors to descend
into the open plain.
Snow, in the month of March, and in
the southern hemisphere. 1t was enough
to make us fancy that our advance
guard had been sun-struck - fact
which could not have astonished us in
the least, as the heat was absolutely tor
rid in the valley, if one might give the
name of valley to great mountain-gap
bordered by enormous rocks, whose de-
brs covered the soil as if to delay our
advance and to keep us still longer
time in this cursed place. The only
vegetation visible was represented by
some gigantic lichens, whose silver-col-
ored ramitications could hardly DE dis
tinguished from that of the gray rock
to which they chung as if glued upon
it.
''Are you going crazy?" cried Charles.
''Well, you can see for yourselves.
If it ism t snow, it looks just like it. I'd
swear 1t was snow if the day was not so
hot.n
The thermometer stood at 10 de-
grees-
We had no sooner reached the spot to
which our comrade had ridden in adj
vance of us than we all uttered CRY of
establishment in unison. Not with
out reason! Before us, and limited APP
parently by the horizon only, stretched
an enormous sheet of dazzling white
ness, which under the burning sun
seemed to send out myriads of tiny
sparks. Indeed, one would have taken
it for snow.
Speechless with surprise, we turned
toward Barlejo and questioned him
with our eyes.
The vaqueano laughed TO himself; he
enjoyed our asonishment.
I'VE are entering the great salines,"
he said at last, when he thought our
patience had been sufficiently put to the
test
The salines Don Cabral had told
us about them when we were convers-
ing about our route ut the Estancia of
Las Jarillas; but our imagination had
never conceived q spectacle so grandoise
in its uniformity.
As far rs the eye could reach extend
ed motionless ocean of salt as white as
snow. Not one shadow in ali that vast
panorama, which reminded us of the
immense Siberian steppes when winter
spreads his spotless shroud over that
kingdom of death and silence-not one
single speck broke the monotony of
white.
'Come, courage, nowI' said Barleio:
''its an ugly road 10 travel under sun
hot enough to roast an OK; but we've
got to cross it before night for unless
we want to lose our horses we must
not think of camping in the salines."
care they very broad, these salines?"
''About dozen miles
A dozen milesi Absolute misery for
our horses, which were kept all the
morning at walk-the only gait posi-
BILE in the Valley of Condors.
Squirting our animals, we started at y
gallop.
The three gauchos had allowed us to
take the lead.
Our race did not last very long. The
moment our horses touched the salt
they stopped as suddenly as if nailed to
the ground-the salty crust cracked
under their feet with the crisp sound of
snow. Then. stepping forward very
cautiously, they proceeded at a walk.
Fancy the prospect of riding twelve
miles under such conditionsl And we
had hoped to ride across the salines at
gallopl
The heat was sitting. The white
glare of the salt-purified and refined
innumerable times by washings and
dryings, rain and san - absolutely
blinded us. Aud to crown our misery,
the north wind was blowing suf-
locating and eneryaiine wind of the
southern henlispbera We felt ns if in